


like we're made of starlight

by rumpledlinen



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Non-Famous, F/F, Fluff, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-07
Updated: 2014-07-07
Packaged: 2018-02-07 21:44:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1914903
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rumpledlinen/pseuds/rumpledlinen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the couch, wearing a fucking tiara and a sparkly yellow collar with what looks like a banana-shaped tag, is a cat. </p><p>Louis blinks. </p><p>“I know she’s not allowed but she was so sad on the side of the road, and my mate Grimmy can’t take her in because he’s got a dog that can’t handle not being the center of attention, and probably he should wean her off of that but he’s older, you know, and Puppy’s like his kid, and so I took her until I can find someone else but there isn’t anyone else, and please don’t tell Simon about it.”</p><p>Louis grins.</p><p>// </p><p>a self-indulgent au in which harry and louis live in flats next to one another.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like we're made of starlight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [charliebrown](https://archiveofourown.org/users/charliebrown/gifts).



> burncitybelle, you asked for fluff, gender/sex swap, cuddling, and some sort of au. i hope you enjoy. :) ♥
> 
> title from taylor swift's starlight. i'm not sorry for it. (i'm a little sorry for it.)
> 
> thank you, a million times over, to samantha swamiface for being the sweetest beta and telling me what was wrong with this when i really needed it! you're amazing and i love you.
> 
> disclaimer: wow, this isn't true.

Louis is pretty sure she’s actually going insane.

She’s been living in her flat with Zayn for two months now, and there haven’t been any weird noises up until now. No creaking in the night, no pipes groaning when toilets flush, nothing. (Well, there’s the occasional night of bedsprings from the room upstairs, but Louis has seen those girls and she gets it. Doesn’t mind it, even.)

But now--there’s this soft howling, every night, always coming from the same place. And Zayn’s no help, what with her new girlfriend she’s always staying with. Louis is all alone, yet again. Life continues to mock her.

She’s on her hands and knees, inspecting the place the floor meets the wall (maybe that’s where ghosts like to hang out? hip new haunting area?) when there’s a knock at her door.

“Come in!” she shouts, not moving. If she’s caught the ghost, she’s not going to let a stupid thing like guests let it get away. Or Zayn.

(If she remembers correctly, ghosts are neither solid nor real, but that’s not going to stop her from trying.)

“Is this a bad time?” Zayn asks.

Louis turns her head, very slowly. Zayn’s got what looks like a pie in one arm and a stack of books in the other.

She has to make a snap decision between pie and ghost catching, and the inevitable wins. She stands up, brushing her hands off. “What kind? Also, have I ever told you you’re my favorite flatmate?”

“Cherry, and yes, you have, but it’s always nice to hear,” Zayn says, setting it down on the table. “I’ve invited Liam over, so be nice, please.”

“Did you bring a second pie?” Louis asks. “Because I was thinking that this one could be mine. Yours, too, I guess. If you wanted to take my one joy in life away from me.”

Zayn rolls her eyes. She’s not a very good friend, good a flatmate as she might be.

Louis hops up onto the table and pulls the pie into her lap, swinging her legs. “You invited Liam?” she asks, trying to subtly and silently open the pie. “And Perrie, I assume?”

Zayn wrinkles her nose. “Nah. She’s busy tonight, got a gig with her girls.”

“You’re not going?” Louis asks.

“It’s, like, an hour away and she told me to stop being a twat and spend some time with Louis,” Zayn says, rolling her eyes.

Louis really, really loves Perrie.

“A night to be a bachelor!” Louis shouts, clapping. The pie almost falls; she catches it, because she has awesome reflexes. “That sounds like my idea of a perfect night.”

Zayn laughs, like she does when she can’t help herself. Louis counts it as a win.

“So, why were you on your hands and knees staring at the corner of a wall?” Zayn asks. “Have you convinced yourself there are termites in there again?”

“No,” Louis snaps. Jesus, she doesn’t need a repeat of that nightmare. She’d slept at Eleanor’s for two weeks. (It was rather ill-advised, in the end, but fun while it lasted. Though she can’t think of Eleanor or wear her favorite pajamas without thinking of bugs. Worth it.) “I think there’s a ghost living here.”

“Why’s that, then?” Zayn asks.

“Because there’s this moaning sound every night, and not in the sex way,” Louis says. “It’s like--” She tries to imitate the noise. By the forcedly straight look on Zayn’s face, she either doesn’t get it even close or manages it too well. It’s always hard to tell, with Zayn. Mysterious girl, her.

“Could it be an animal?” Zayn asks.

Louis blinks. “We’re not allowed animals in the flat.”

Zayn shrugs. “You weren’t allowed alcohol in that dorm when you stayed with Stan either, but that didn’t stop you getting drunk and throwing a mattress out a window.”

Louis laughs. Truly, that was one of her shining moments. “Yeah, but the girl who lives there is really quiet, and nice. She gave me her laundry soap once when I ran out, and she made a bunch of cookies one day and gave me some.” She’s also exceptionally hot, and Louis had made a bit of a fool out of herself, but Louis isn’t about to tell Zayn that. Louis can flirt well enough on her own, thanks much, no matter what any of her friends and past performance seem to suggest.

Zayn raises her eyebrows. “So why don’t you go over there and ask her about it? Maybe she’s got a secret puppy. A horde of them, even. You never know. One can be kind enough to give laundry soap and break rules, you know.”

Louis does fucking know, thanks Zayn. She groans. “I don’t want to bother her.” She doesn’t want to stumble all over her words in front of Zayn, is possibly slightly more accurate, but whatever.

“Sounds like it wouldn’t be a bother, not if she’s as nice as you say.” Zayn grins, crosses her arms over her chest, leans against the countertop. “Why don’t you want to talk to her, Louise?”

“That’s not my name.” Louis feels a bit trapped. “No reason,” she tries, and shrugs. It feels forced. (Maybe she’s not as good an actor as she’d thought. Dreams of showing up on Broadway, once again dashed.)

“I’ll ask, then.” Zayn gets off of the counter, walking toward the door.

Louis widens her eyes. “No!” She runs ahead of Zayn. “I’ll--do that.” Zayn’s exceptionally hot, and while Louis is 99% sure Harry had been looking at her in the I’d like to kiss you way, as soon as she sees Zayn all hopes are gone for Louis, Perrie be damned.

Just then, the noise starts and Louis jumps about a meter into the air. “I will! Right now.”

Zayn just raises an eyebrow and nods, the arsehole.

Louis knocks, one-two-three times in quick succession.

Harry opens the door, slow. She’s got wide green eyes and her dark hair back in a knot. “Hi!” she says, grinning. “I’m a bit busy at the mo’, but if you need more soap or something I’m sure--”

“No,” Louis says, trying her hardest not to trip over her words this time, and christ, is she blushing? (She remembers giving me soap, Louis pointedly doesn’t think, because that would just be sad.) “I just. I was wondering, that weird noise, what’s that been? Because Zayn, m’flatmate, seems to think it’s a ghost and--”

“Oh.” Harry turns bright red, which is interesting and adorable. At least now they’re both blushing. “Well, I--” She groans, looking either way down the hall. “Can you come inside for a moment?” and before Louis has a chance to respond she’s being forcedly yanked inside.

Louis has never been one for manhandling, but she could get behind this, Harry who’s probably  twenty centimeters taller than her in flats. “What are you--” she starts, and her voice is slightly husky, but she doesn’t care because--

On the couch, wearing a fucking tiara and a sparkly yellow collar with what looks like a banana-shaped tag, is a cat.

Louis blinks.

“I know she’s not allowed but she was so sad on the side of the road, and my mate Grimmy can’t take her in because he’s got a dog that can’t handle not being the center of attention, and probably he should wean her off of that but he’s older, you know, and Puppy’s like his kid, and so I took her until I can find someone else but there isn’t anyone else, and please don’t tell Simon about it.”

Louis grins. She could lord this over Harry’s head--if it were anyone else it wouldn’t be a question--but she can’t keep that dejected look on Harry’s face.  “Course I won’t, mate.” She sits on the couch, and the cat crawls into her lap, dainty-like. “What’s her name?”

“Taylor,” Harry says, prompt.

Louis looks at her, petting Taylor. “As in--”

“As in Swift, as in the country singer-turned-pop star,” Harry says, shaking her head. “I know, I know. You can mock.”

Louis laughs, too loud. “You’re adorable,” she says, because she’s never been good at keeping her thoughts to herself.

Harry turns pink again, looks down at her hands. “Well,” she says, “you’re not too bad yourself.”

“So, the noises? Not a ghost then.” Louis nods, keeps petting Taylor. (What a stupid name for a cat.) “Good to know.”

Harry grins, the corners of her mouth quirking up. “Thought it was your friend that thought she was a ghost.”

“I mean, I may have been worried. Just a little, you know.” Louis forces herself not to smile. “Wouldn’t want to be wrong and then get murdered in the middle of the night by something I can’t even see, now.”

“No, of course not.” Harry sits next to her, just a bit closer than most acquaintances would.

Louis swallows.

“I’m glad your mystery got solved,” Harry says, shifting a bit closer. She reaches out, and--pets Taylor.

Right. The cat. Louis nods. She wracks her brain, trying to think of something to say. She doesn’t want to leave; she likes this flat, all white walls and careful disorganization. “I’m having some friends over tonight,” she says, “if you want to join us. We’re just going to, like, eat pie and play video games  but the more the merrier.”

Harry smiles. It’s a beautiful thing to watch. “I could be a murderer,” she says, tone laced with sweetness.

“Nah,” Louis says. “I’ve got an excellent sense for that thing, see, and I think that you are just an adorable lady with a cute cat. You’re shit at naming things, though.”

Harry laughs. “In your opinion!” she says, but she doesn’t sound offended at all.

“In the opinion of literally everyone alive,” Louis says. “I love Ms. Swift as much as the next person, but really?”

“At least it’s not a dog,” Harry says, which--fair.

Louis is a little bit in love.

Her phone buzzes then, though. It’s Zayn--come back i’m boredddddd is this all you do while i’m w/ perrie?--and she frowns, setting Taylor to the side carefully. “I’ve got to go,” she says, “but you should definitely stop by tonight. If you want.” She smiles. “You can bring Taylor, too, but don’t think I and my friends won’t mock you for her name all night long.”

Harry grins. “I’ll keep you in mind.” She stands up too, actually walks to the door and opens it, slow.

This might be a hint. It might not be. Louis really wants to see the cat again, though, so she doesn’t take the maybe-hint, just bites her bottom lip and looks up at Harry. “See you, then.”

“See you,” Harry says, and it sounds like a promise.

Louis bolts.

Zayn’s sat on her couch, reading a magazine. “So she’s just your neighbor, then?”

“She’s coming tonight,” Louis says. There may be a hint of desperation in her voice. She’s not proud.

Zayn raises an eyebrow. “She’s hot,” she says, flipping a page. “I’d fuck her.”

Louis wrinkles her nose. “You can’t--that’s not--”

“Oh,” Zayn says, grinning and setting it to the side. “You want to date her, then, you’ve got a proper crush.”

“I wouldn’t call it proper,” Louis says, but yes, she absolutely would. “She named her cat Taylor Swift,” she says, helpless.

“That’s a horrible name for a cat,” Zayn says, but Louis can see the tease in her eyes.

“Hey,” Louis half-snaps, anyway, because Harry--well. Louis wants to be the only one making fun of Harry, really. “Just--be nice, okay?” she asks. “Like, not overly but don’t scare her away.”

“I am always nice,” Zayn says, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Because Louis is a kind friend, she doesn’t bring up the time Zayn was so rude to her at-the-time boyfriend that he almost cried. He was a dick, anyway. “Promise,” she says, instead.

Zayn looks at her, and pats the couch next to her. “Of course, babe,” she says, kissing the top of Louis’ head. “I promise.”

Harry comes over with a giant bag and two trays in her arms. “Where can I set these down?” she asks. They smell like sweets, but Louis can’t see what they are.

She nods to the table and Harry sets them down, taking the lids off. “Here you go!” Harry says, clapping. “I was going to make cupcakes as well, but I don’t actually like cake very much, and--”

“You made cookies,” Louis says. She’s having trouble focusing on anything but jumping Harry’s bones right there, Zayn be damned. Louis’ seen enough of Zayn and Perrie, this is just--payback.

Harry clears her throat. “And brownies. Is that okay? I mean, I assumed you wouldn’t mind but I guess you could have enough food? I just figure sweets can never go wrong, and you did say you were having pie.” She bites her lip. “Should I be apologizing? I have an adorable cat, if it makes it better.”

Louis hugs her. “Are you seriously apologizing for making me brownies?” she asks into Harry’s hair.

Harry shrugs, hugging her back. “Guess so,” she says. “I mean.” She pulls back a little bit to look at Louis properly. “I just wanted to make sure I wasn’t overstepping any boundaries.” She says it so seriously that Louis wants to kiss between her eyebrows, smooth out the worried wrinkle there.

Instead, she pinches Harry’s side and watches her huff out a laugh. “It’s fine, you idiot.” She takes a bite of one of the cookies. “Jesus Christ, this is good.” Move in with me and do all my cooking, she wants to say but doesn’t. Even she has some boundaries, and anyway it would be Louis doing the moving in; Harry doesn’t have a roommate, even a pseudo-one.

Harry grins. “Yeah?”

“Oi!” Zayn shouts from the living room. “I know you guys are flirting or whatever but I want to try some of this.” She grabs a plate and loads up, leaving Louis’ pie untouched.

Zayn, leaving her pie alone? Louis really does want to marry Harry. Or, like, whatever Harry wanted.

“The only way this could be better is if we had alcohol,” Zayn says.

Just then, the door bangs open and Liam runs in, shouting “I brought beer!”

“Perfect,” Harry says, grinning at Louis like they’ve got a secret.

Louis could definitely fall in love with that smile.

They end up watching Zayn and Liam play FIFA; generally, Louis would join in but she’s got her head in Harry’s lap and Harry stroking her hair, and she’s really very comfortable. Also turned on, because Harry keeps shifting and moving her other hand up and down Louis’ side, resting it on her hip, but.

It’s nice.

Harry’d spent the night being friendly and kind, and even Liam seemed taken with her, right away. (Louis is maybe biased, but for a long time she’d thought Liam had terrible taste in friends.)

“I want a cuddle,” Louis had announced, somewhere between her third and fourth beer, and instead of getting all weird Harry had grinned and pulled Louis to lie halfway on top of her.

Even if they don’t end up together forever (which Louis really hopes isn’t the case) she can tell they’re going to be friends for a long, long time.

She’s breathing slowly, eyes closed, halfway to sleep. Harry’s hand is just so soothing, and she’s humming softly under her breath, something Louis doesn’t recognize but wants to.

“She asleep?” Liam asks, probably at Harry.

Louis can feel Harry shifting again, and she does her best to stay as still as possible; she doesn’t want to talk to anyone, just wants to lie here and drift. She’s not been this comfortable in--too long, really. “Yeah,” Harry breathes, and her hand tightens on Louis’ hip. “She’s out.”

“I’m gonna get this one to bed,” Liam says. “I can take Louis, too, if you like?”

“Nah,” Harry says. “I’ll get her situated out here and then get back to my own.”

No, Louis thinks, but she doesn’t say anything, just remains still.

“Night,” Liam breathes, and then there’s the sleepy sounds of Zayn and Liam getting ready for bed, and two doors snicking shut.

Harry pushes at Louis. “You awake?” she asks, in a voice that’s nothing like a whisper.

Louis doesn’t open her eyes. “Depends,” she says. “Are you going to yell at me if I say yes?”

“Nah,” Harry says, voice lower. “You’re shit at pretending to be asleep. Surprised Liam fell for it.”

“She probably didn’t,” Louis says around a yawn, and finally opens her eyes. Harry’s close, very close. Louis blinks.

“Yeah?” Harry asks.

Right. She was saying something. “Uh,” she starts, “she probably saw, you know, the way I am with you, and wanted to give us some time.”

Harry grins, biting her lower lip again. It’s all Louis can do to not grown. “The way you are with me?”

“Look at you, more like,” Louis amends. It’s 4:30 in the morning; she can be honest.

Harry smiles. “Then you’ve seen the way I look at you.” She pulls Louis up so that they’re half-cuddling, Harry’s arm loose around her shoulders.

“I might’ve,” Louis says, falsely apathetic.

Harry kisses her.

Louis is completely still for approximately one second, and then she kisses back, humming into it. She moves slowly to set her hands on Harry’s waist, pull her in just a little bit.

Harry grins against her mouth, bites Louis’ lower lip. “Been wanting to do that a while,” she whispers.

“Me, too,” Louis breathes, resting her forehead against Harry’s. Up this close, her green eyes are too much, so Louis shuts her own. “Like, all night.”

“Nah, don’t mean that,” Harry says. She kisses Louis again, and they get distracted. It’s long enough that Louis has all but forgotten about their conversation, her lips bitten and already starting to get sore, when Harry continues. “Wanted to kiss you since that day with the laundry soap.”

Louis grins. “What?”

“You were in lipstick and had your hair in this horrible plait, and you were so earnest, and you’re so tiny,” Harry says. “I just wanted to kiss you, but instead I, you know.” She smiles.

“Seduced me with laundry soap?” Louis asks, laughing a little bit.

“Yeah,” Harry says.

Louis has to kiss her.

It’s a while before Louis really thinks about anything else; they’re lying down on the couch, Louis half on top of Harry.

“You’re so--fuck,” Harry breathes, “so small, god, could just lift you up and press you against a wall.”

Again, Louis is really not into manhandling, except that apparently she kind of is. Who knew, her really hot neighbor’s the one who’s gotten her to consider more kinky things. She groans, pressing her legs together, trying to get some kind of friction. “Harry,” she whimpers.

There’s a noise from one of the rooms, a soft sigh and the bedsprings creaking, and Harry stills underneath her.

They look at one another for a long moment.

“We could try to be quiet?” Louis offers, at the same time Harry says, “I’ve got a flat to myself, you know.”

Louis grins. “Yours is way better.”

Harry makes good on her promise, pressing Louis up against the door as soon as they get it shut. Louis’ breath comes out in a hot gasp and her head slams back against the wall, but she doesn’t care. Harry’s mouthing at her neck, one hand dipping just below the waistband of her shorts. “Please, Harry, c’mon,” she whimpers.

Harry bites her neck one last time and steps back, looking at Louis.

Without Harry pressed against her, Louis feels marginally (emphasis on that) more in control and she takes a moment to calm down. She can feel the way Harry’s looking at her, all wide eyes and uncertain hands, and so she takes her shirt off and tosses it to the side, resting her hands on her hips. “Come on,” she says, “are you just gonna watch me, or--?”

Harry growls, fucking growls like she’s in some horrible porn, but then she’s walking back to Louis and kissing her, hard, hands on either side of Louis’ face. “You’re so hot,” Harry gets out, “god, wanted you for so long, fuck.”

“You’ve got me,” Louis says, and it’s everything cheesy and horrible but Harry whimpers, fingers stilling where they’ve moved down to Louis’ hips.

So, Harry’s possessive, then. Good to know.

Louis is about to say something else, probably also cringe-worthy, when a furry thing wraps its way around her ankle. She almost screams but then she remembers Taylor, right, there’s a cat that lives here.

She leans down, just in her bra and high-waisted shorts, and picks up the stupid thing. “You,” she tells Ms. Swift, “are a cockblock. Do you know that?”

Harry’s kind of helplessly giggling into her hands by this point, and Louis is 99% sure the mood is completely snapped, but she doesn’t mind; not when Harry’s grinning at Louis like she’s the sun.

Louis passes the cat over. “This is your fault,” she tells Harry. “I was going to go down on you, make you come as much as I could, but--”

Harry sets the cat down, and takes a step toward Louis, boxing her in again against the wall. “I’ve got a room,” she says, “and the door shuts. You can still--if you want,” and she grins, slow and dirty.

Louis pretends to think about it long enough that Harry looks ready to scream, and then she nods, wrapping her arms around Harry’s neck and kissing her.

Harry lifts her up, and nope, the mood is definitely not broken.

She wakes up by herself.

She’s a bit disoriented for a moment--her neck really hurts, and she’s kind of cold, but then she hears Harry’s voice in the kitchen and she takes a moment to smile to herself.

She stands up, pulling on a jumper off of the floor, and goes to find Harry.

Harry, who’s standing at the stove, making pancakes.

“You’re the best,” Louis says.

Harry turns around, grinning. “Am I?”

Louis nods. “First, you make me delicious dessert, and then you make me breakfast in the morning. You’re perfect, and I’m not going to let you leave.”

Harry turns pink, looking back at the pan. She’s smiling, though, Louis can see it. “‘m not perfect,” she mumbles.

Louis walks behind her and goes on her tiptoes so she can rest her chin on Harry’s shoulder. “To me, you are perfect,” she intones.

“That’s my favorite movie!” Harry says, grinning.

“So your favorite movie is Love Actually and your favorite singer is Taylor Swift?” Louis teases, dipping her finger into the batter and trying it. Tastes like.. uncooked pancakes, which, bleurgh, but she does like the way Harry’s eyes follow her movement.

“She’s great,” Harry says, more distracted than anything. “You can’t blame me for--damn it, Louis,” she breathes when Louis steps forward to suck another love bite into the hollow of her throat.

Louis grins. “Can and will,” she promises. “And--it’s okay. I like them, too.”

Harry grins. Louis can feel it, pressed against her cheek. “You do?”

“Yeah,” Louis says.

Harry turns off the burner and faces Louis, wrapping her arms around Louis’ neck. “Then I think,” she says, giving her a kiss, “this relationship is going to be awesome.”

Louis raises an eyebrow. “Relationship?” she asks, her heart beating stupidly fast.

Harry nods, like it’s not even a question. “Of course.”

Louis smiles, too-wide, and kisses her. “Let’s celebrate by letting me pet your horribly-named cat.”

Harry grins, seemingly despite herself. Her dimple pops out. Louis is so gone. “I’d like that.”

They spend the rest of the weekend holed up in Harry’s flat; she’s got loads of films, most of them better than Zayn’s (she likes artsy things and things where there are lots of explosions, and not much else), and she’s got a cat that’s seemed to take reasonably well to Louis.

“You know,” Louis says, when Colin Firth is giving an impassioned speech, “I’m surprised she likes me so much. Most cats don’t.”

Harry grins and grabs her closer. Taylor hisses but doesn’t move. “I’m glad,” Harry murmurs, kissing Louis, quick. “If she didn’t like you, we wouldn’t be able to work.”

Louis nods, very solemn. “I understand,” she says. “Taylor Swift is the real queen of this flat.”

“And the world,” Harry says, nodding. “The person, I mean, not--”

“I got it,” Louis says, dry.

Harry kisses her. Louis accepts that as the proper end of the conversation (though it’s really not as though she had a choice).

“My favorite film is Grease,” Louis says, and that’s how they end up spending a weekend listening to the entire soundtrack on repeat. Harry can sing, it turns out, and Louis decidedly can’t but they spend the whole time shouting You’re the One That I Want at each other until Simon comes upstairs to yell at them.

Harry only just manages to hide Taylor, and it’s got to be Louis’ excessive grinning that ends in them not being kicked out.

“Thank god,” Harry says, leaning against the cupboard where she’d stashed the poor cat. Taylor makes a pitiful noise, more a moan than a meow. “I can barely afford this place on my own, and it’s the cheapest around. I can’t get kicked out.”

Louis doesn’t point out that nobody made Harry take in the cat, because she’s seen the way she looks at Taylor. A lot like the way Harry looks at Louis, in fact, only there’s less poorly-hidden lust toward Taylor. Which, you know, good.

Instead of chastising, Louis just kisses her forehead, smoothing her hair back. “I promise you won’t,” she says. “I’m very tough, very frightening. Simon wouldn’t dare mess with me.”

Harry grins. “My hero.”

Louis doesn’t say anything about her and Harry finding their own flat, but she adds it quietly to her list of things to discuss, soon (but not too soon). She smiles.

“I’m just saying,” Louis says, later, “if you’re looking for a proper, like, love story, you can do better than Love Actually. I mean, half the couples don’t even end up together!”

Harry gives an outraged sort of shriek. “No!” she insists. “The whole point of the film is the different types of love, you know? That romantic love comes after family unless it doesn’t, and that every kind is equally important.”

Louis can’t keep the smile off of her face.

“You’re fucking with me again, aren’t you?” Harry asks. She groans, pressing a pillow against her face. “You are such a dick. I’m going to break up with you right now and you’re going to be all alone. I’ll watch the film by myself and cry and you can’t do a thing about it.” She rolls over, dramatic, and throws the pillow across the room.

Taylor crawls off Louis’ lap to go chase it.

“Nooo,” Louis says, giggling and crawling to the couch. “No, come on. Don’t leave me, I love you. I--” She pauses, swallowing. She hadn’t actually meant to say that.

Harry’s mouth twists, but not in the way that means she’s displeased. “I--you?”

“Love you?” Louis asks. “I do. Madly, in fact. Truly. Deeply.”

Harry looks like she’s fighting a grin. “You can’t win arguments this way, you know.”

“Yeah, but I love you,” Louis says.

“I love you too!” Harry shouts. She throws her hands up into the air. “Lord help me, I love you.”

“Oh, don’t be so dramatic,” Louis says, shoving Harry. “Now budge over, I want a proper cuddle and also I love you.”

Harry presses her grin against Louis’ neck.

Louis kisses her, and feels so incredibly lucky.

**  
**

**Author's Note:**

> i'm on tumblr at guillotineheart and twitter at doinwhatwe do if you wanna talk :)


End file.
